The Middle Days
by jakkios
Summary: A year after the war with Gaia, Annabeth finds herself in a body that belongs to someone decidedly different than herself.
1. Below the Surface

_Something isn't right. _

_ My mind is being pulled in a hundred different directions. I cry out, but I cannot hear the noise over the rush of memories that are trying to drown me. Pull me under. There is the sensation of rising, faintly, but otherwise I am caught in a trap of my own creation. Caught in fields of daisies, in crowded streets of San Francisco. Of battles fighting alongside people I know are my friends but do not recognize. Running from nightmare monsters. The weight of the world, literally, crushing my body into the ground. All of this and more is shoved down, down, down my throat and I gag. _

_ All at once, the feeling of being stretched out reverses. Now I am being shoved into a too-small space. _

_ It is agony. _

_ My fingers slip into gloves, my feet into boots, except these aren't winter clothes. They're different, but I cannot tell how. _

_ The squeezing reaches my head, and I cannot take it anymore. Without even a sigh, I allow myself to drift down into my ocean of past lifetimes. I take a deep breath to drown myself quicker._

_ My lungs fill. Bubbles rise to the surface. _

_ I am far, far below the surface._

* * *

Last summer, some Hermes kids had snuck some beer into camp and had a party out by the beach. Percy and Leo convinced me to go with them ("_it's smart to try it now, Annabeth, instead of at a creepy old bar"_), and I ended up having at least three. Or four? I'm still not sure. Point being, the next morning I had woken up with a railroad spike in my head and a rotting animal in my mouth. Figuratively of course, but I didn't know that for at least an hour.

That's about how I feel now, except a million times worse.

A bass drum is relentlessly pounding out the beat to an aggressive Adele songbehind my eyes. I groan, and roll over in the bed sheets. Weak sunlight filters through creamy window shades, casting a rectangle of gold over the crumpled blankets that cover the floor. The smell of sleep is heavy in the air. Outside, there is the drone of insects.

I put a hand to my forehead, sweep my bangs out of my eyes. There's a set of double doors not too far away, and I decide to make them my goal. If I can at least walk, then I know I'm not dead.

Pins and needles rush up my feet the second they touch the stone floor. I scrunch up my toes, which crack in unison. I take another look around, and put a dampen on my quickening heart rate. Snuff it out.

I don't recognize this place.

That's okay, my reason counters. You've woken up in far weirder places.

The doors. If I can just get outside, I can figure out where I am. Like every time I decide on a course of action, I picture a little red target painted across the wood. That's where I need to be. Don't waste time looking around. Just walk.

With a groan, I push myself fully onto my feet, and discover I'm only wearing a t-shirt and underwear. Well, half my underwear. I shiver. I don't sleep like this. I wear sweatpants and Percy's old sweaters, of which I have a stash hidden under my bunk. Sometimes, when I'm alone in my cabin, I'll get on my hands and knees and slide out the box just to bury my face in the tattered fabric. Breath him in.

_Stop wasting time. _

When I put my hand on the doorknob, I glance down and swear to the gods I see a snake sitting on my shoulder. I curse and slap it away, but it just comes swinging back.

Hair. It's a braid of glossy black hair.

I dig my index fingernail into the soft skin on my thumb. Don't panic. Just open the door.

The door swings open with barely a whisper, and even though my legs are not moving right, I step outside onto a small balcony. A tidal wave of sounds and smells breaks over my body and I close my eyes for just a moment, struggling to adjust. I dig deep in my lungs, forcing air down to the bottom, and look at the world around me.

I'm on the second story level of a house. From where I stand, I'm just tall enough to be level with the rooftops of a little city that spreads in front of me like a fan. Most of it is comprised of red shingles wooden walls, but far off, if I squint, I can make out gleaming domes, pillars of temples, and a sparkling, winding river. People bustle along in the street, some two or three hundred feet from the back door of whatever building I'm in. The air slowly hisses out of my lungs, because I recognize this place. I know this place. The very first time I was here, I was chased away by an angry mob determined to stick my head on a spear and dance on my ashes.

I'm in New Rome.

A chill ghosts down my forearms, because I've woken up on the wrong side of the continent.

"Hey. I heard you get up."

I try not to whip my head around at the unfamiliar voice, but instead very calmly and stately turn to find myself facing a girl who looks about my age. She stands in the open doors with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her bare collarbone peeping out where the fabric ends. Chocolate brown hair spills in curls around her shoulders, framing a kind but battle-worn face. Eyes softer than Percy's sweaters bunch up in concern when she sees me staring.

"Still waking up, there?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I guess." I know this girl, too. I remember seeing her during my brief time here, before everyone went psycho on us. My brain supplies a name: Gwendolyn. Frank has told me about her, how she was killed during War Games, but found her way back to life. What am I doing in her house?

"Me too." Gwendolyn shuffles over and reaches out to enfold both of us in her oversized blanket, then leans her head on my shoulder. I look down, and see that she is most definitely only wearing the blanket. "I was thinking about going down to the market for breakfast, but I don't know if I can make it that far." She smiles a lopsided little smile up at me, and I feel heat rush to my face. This isn't right. Nothing about this is right. Coming outside didn't help, and Gwendolyn thinks…I don't know, exactly, but I have more than a sneaking suspicion. I'm not myself, and I'm not where I should be. The warmth of sharing a blanket with Gwen begins to feel like standing in a furnace. She's resting her lips on my neck, whispering something about coffee and gods knows what else. I need air, to get away. Time to think-

_Hey. Annabeth. _The voice rings out in my mind as clearly as if I had thought it. I freeze, my eyes wide.

"Hello?" I mumble. Gwen doesn't seem to hear me.

_If you're done messing around with my girlfriend, you can give me back my body. _

"Um…" I didn't think those words. And that's not my voice.

"I'm gonna go put on some clothes, Reyna." Gwendolyn brushes her hand over my butt, and if possible, I tense up even more.

_Yeah, I'm wondering the exact same thing._

* * *

I study the street map, pinching the bridge of my nose (Reyna's nose) between thumb and forefinger. A few minutes earlier, when Gwen had gone to the bathroom, I wrote a sticky note and stuck it to the bedroom door before slipping out the front entrance. Now I'm standing in the middle of New Rome in a too-long t-shirt and the bottom piece of an underwear set, cursing myself for not taking the time to put on a decent pair of clothes.

"Okay, I give up." I hug my arms to my chest, very consciousness of the strange looks people are giving me as they walk by. A couple steers their toddler a few more feet away from me, and I pretend like I don't notice.

_You need to head down two more blocks. Her house is the little yellow one on the right. _

"Thanks." I clench my teeth (Reyna's teeth), grind them together, anything to take my mind off…my mind. What's going on inside of it. If I allow myself to process just what is happening, than I won't be able to make it to my next target. I glance up and stare off down the street, painting another red circle.

New Rome is absolutely beautiful, but I don't have the willpower to stop and admire the architecture. Sweeping promenades and glittering white columns-

_You need to focus. _

"I am focusing." I push myself off from the signpost like a ship casting off into a stormy sea. My legs (Reyna's legs) are longer than my own, and my stride ends up somewhere between zombie-lurch and broken-ankle-stumble. It feels as though a firecracker goes off in my head (Reyna's head) time Reyna speaks in my mind.

_ Will you stop it? It's driving me insane._

"Stop what?" I almost crash into an old man carrying a little red balloon, but catch myself on a flagpole with one hand (Reyna's hand)-

_That. Stop it. I know it's my body. _

"It's the 4th of July under my skull right now, Arellano."

_And don't call me that._

I accidentally clip my shoulder on the corner of a fruit cart. It's as though I'm piloting an ancient puppet that refuses to listen my commands.

"Are we almost there?"

_I told you, the little yellow house. It's just up here. _

Reyna's right, thank the gods. I manage to make it down the home stretch without seriously injuring myself, and lean, panting, against the doorframe. I kick around in the dirt, and stub my toe on something hard. I bend over to get a better look, and realize it's an old chunk of gold, just sitting in the dust.

The little bell that hangs by the door reminds me of sleigh bells when I ring it, and I smile at the memories of Christmas it brings back. Somewhere inside, a dog barks, and there's the rapid sound of footsteps pounding down a staircase. A moment later, a girl with dark skin and massive golden eyes answers the door, a little black Labrador puppy trying to squeeze through her legs.

"Reyna, hi." The girl raises her eyebrows a fraction of an inch, but I notice that she is already stepping back to invite me inside.

"Hi, Hazel." I raise my hand in a lame little wave. "Can I come in?"

* * *

"Hold on a minute, I already have a pot of coffee going. Duke! Down!" Hazel swats at the puppy, which dodges her hand and then puts its front paws back on my thighs.

"It's alright." I follow her through a narrow hall that opens up into a little dining area at the back of the house. There, a massive window stands to let in a flood of sunlight that washes over the mosaic tiles that make up the floor.

"No, he needs to learn that jumping isn't okay." Hazel swipes a Windex bottle filled with water from the top of her refrigerator and spritzes Duke. "Stay down, stupid." Duke sneezes, and Hazel squats down on her knees to let him lick her face. "Frank would be teaching him in dog form, but he had to take a look at the new War Games castle blueprints."

"Yeah." My tongue wanders to my top teeth. Where do I begin? "I actually, uh, wanted your help with…something."

"Oh?" Hazel looks up, grinning as Duke nibbles on her chin.

"Um. I'm not…"

_Annabeth, maybe I was wrong. _

"I'm not Reyna."

"Oh." Hazel frowns, standing up to the sound of crackling knee joints. "That's…I mean, you look-"

"I know. I mean, I am Reyna," I gesture to my body. "But I'm not." I take a breath and blow the air over my face, blowing my bangs in all directions. "I woke up in Reyna's body this morning."

"Are you sure you're…" Hazel trailed off, not wanting to say that I was absolutely going off the deep end. Which I very well might be.

"Yes. This isn't my body. It doesn't belong to me." Say it. Why is it so hard to just say it? "Reyna's in here, talking to me in my mind. I'm…I'm Annabeth."

Hazel freezes. Her head cocks a millimeter to the left.

"Reyna…"

"No, I am." I try to keep the desperation out of my voice. I hadn't considered that she wouldn't believe me. And if Hazel won't believe me, Frank won't. And if nobody will listen to me…No. They have to. I won't be alone in this. "Let me prove it."

"I think-"

"Percy wears a medium boxer-brief. He tells everyone they're larges but they're not. The very first time I wanted to kiss him was in the Sea of Monsters, after he saved me life. There are five hundred and thirty-seven temples to Zeus in Mt. Olympus, and only five hundred and twenty-thee to Poseidon. I know because I designed Poseidon's main worship area with a Fibonacci sequenced roof pattern, which is really hard to do-" More words rush out. More, more, more. They keep coming, driven by the fear of being left behind, of not being believed in.

"No." Hazel is backing away, shaking her head, something in her eyes that looks like…fear? "No, please just stop."

_Annabeth, maybe we should go. _

"Why?" I move closer, tears beginning to prick my eyes. "Nobody knows that! Nobody!"

_I mean it. _Reyna sounds agitated now. Worried. _Let's just get out of here. _

"You can't be Annabeth."

"Percy's favorite movie is Mean Girls but I'm the only one who knows. I'm the only one! My dad only hit me once, when I was four, and it was because-"

"You can't be her." A tremor of power shakes through Hazel's voice, and for a brief moment, her eyes flash a color brighter than gold. The ground shakes, and the lights overhead quiver in their sockets.

_I'm sorry, I didn't want to tell you. I had hoped it was just a dream. _

"Tell me what." I whisper.

"You can't be Annabeth, because at the final battle of our war with Gaia…" Hazel clutches a chair for support, all the energy suddenly drained out of her body. Leaving her limp. Lifeless. Her eyes meet mine and hold between them an electric current. "Reyna, Annabeth is dead."


	2. Stay Awake

_Annabeth, listen to me. _

"No." The air in my mouth is stale. Like an old thing, rotted away to dust.

"Reyna-"

"I'm not Reyna." The furnace that had been blazing in my chest only a moment earlier has cooled. Cracks run through its walls. I want to hit something, long for the simple pain of combat. Even though I still protest, there's no force behind my words. I'm as powerless as the ghosts who float around outside. "And I'm not dead."

"How can you say that?" Hazel is trying hard to keep herself from crying, but I can hear the bitterness in her voice, too. "After what she gave for you, Reyna? What kind of sick joke are you trying to pull?" The table begins to tremble once again, and at my feet, one of the crystal mosaic pieces pops loose from the calk and skitters towards Hazel's shoes.

_There's only one way to prove this to her. Let me help you. _

"Shut up, Reyna." I press my thumbs into my eyes. There's too much to take in. I don't have all the facts, I don't understand what's going on. It's like I'm trying to solve a calculus problem without knowing half the numbers in the equation. Too much, too much. How did I get here, in this body? Is this a god's idea of a prank? No, it can't be. They vowed to leave us alone. That much I remember.

I can't think. There's a pressure building behind my temples. Water lapping at a dam, threatening to overflow.

There's a morbid curiosity taking root in my numb muscles.

What if what Hazel is saying is true? Reyna believes it. I can feel her mind, pressed up against mine, her thoughts like fish swimming in a neighboring aquarium. I start to shake, but wrap my hand around my bicep, squeezing it. Reassuring myself. No. I'm no dead. If I died, I would have remembered.

But what if?

The gears in my brain are struggling, grasping for anything that might help them. Fighting against the bruise that is spreading through my lungs, making it difficult to breath. Finally, I decide to paint a target, look past what they think about me, and get to the root. There. Red paint is dripping down the core of their beliefs, clashing against my own.

To find out the truth, I have to make Hazel believe me.

_ Show her your heart. _

"What?"

_Just trust me, okay? I have a theory. _For a single instant, Reyna's face, jaw set, flashes through my field of vision. _Now pull down your shirt. _

"Reyna? What are you doing?" Hazel looks up from the floor, where the mosaic tiles have begun to float in the air as if gravity does not exist. Most people have never realized just how scary Hazel can be when she gets worked up. They assume that because she's good at underground stuff, she's not a big threat. But I know better. I've seen her fight, her powers at work. I know enough to fear the children of the Underworld, and am wise enough not to push them away.

I try to keep that in my head as my hand brushes across my sternum. Goosebumps ripple across my skin. Slowly, I pull down the collar the oversized t-shirt.

Hazel chokes on nothing, her floating stones freezing in position, humming with trapped power.

I catch a glimpse of Reyna's body in the tiny mirror hanging on the refrigerator. The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up.

_She said it would follow you. Wherever you went._

I touch the slightly browned scars on my chest. Trace them. Gasp when the cool air meets them.

Because etched into the skin above my breasts is an owl within a circle, staring ahead in silent guard. The same design that had been pressed into a silver coin, the coin that had led me on one of the most dangerous quests of my life. The symbol of the goddess of wisdom herself, my mother.

I am branded with the Mark of Athena.

* * *

"It happened right as we were about to set your shroud on fire." Hazel has recovered somewhat, enough to put down her stones and stumble over to the window. She stands, gazing out over her backyard garden. Refusing to look at me. "Percy was holding the torch."

A knife slides between my ribs, but I try not to show that I'm bleeding.

"So he was going to…to light your shroud, and then out of nowhere…" Hazel clenches the windowsill. Duke lies at her feet, his ears flattened by the mood of the room. "She stepped out of the crowd. A helmet, sword, battle armor, the full nine yards."

It's not even like what I'm hearing is real. This has happened to another person. This is not my life.

"Athena steps out, and puts a hand on the shroud, over you chest, and says _'Behold, my greatest child, born and killed by the fear of others. Her name will be remembered forever, for she shall carry with her-'"_

"'_-carry with her my mark. It will follow her, wherever she goes, and all shall know of what she has done_." The words materialize before I realize I am saying them. Where did that come from? Hazel turns her head and looks, really looks at me, for the first time. And for the first time, I know what it is like to be her, to have returned from an inescapable place. The chill that doesn't leave you.

"I can't believe it's you." Hazel drifts away from her window, and docks at the kitchen, where she goes about making up two mugs of coffee. "Do you remember…?"

"How it happened?" I finish it for her, because she can't.

The question breaks over the walls of my dam. I've been trying, so hard, but everything in my mind is jumbled, washed through with streaks of blur. I can remember clearly our quest to Rome, to the House of Hades, and then to Greece itself, but...

Remembering would mean I accept this. Suddenly, I'm no so eager to reach my target. Remembering how I died.

I _died_.

All at once, the air pulls itself from my lungs, and I double over like I've been run through on a sword. I know I am going into shock, that my brain is trying to deal with something as huge as its own death.

No. I draw a shaky breath. No, I can't allow myself to do this right now. Not alone. I need to keep moving.

I imagine a clay jar, one with a sealed lid, and pour this meltdown into it. If I break apart here, I won't be able to pull myself back together.

The jar will overflow eventually. I know the longer I hold it in, the worse it will be. But if I allow myself to think about it, I'll be crippled. Incapacitated. Suddenly the red paint of my target fades.

"No." I say, accepting my mug. "And I don't want to. At least…at least until I figure more out. How I got into Reyna's body. And why, if Reyna's right about it being a whole year…why now?" The coffee burns my tongue, but I'm glad for the distraction.

_Don't worry about me. You're the bigger problem. _

"We need to help Reyna."

Hazel nods, but she still looks at me funny. With a secret that I don't yet understand. Finally she stands and heads down the hall. Her voice echoes back.

"I'll be back in a minute."

* * *

"O Fleecy, do me a solid." I flip a golden _drachma _into the spray of the garden hose that Hazel holds. The coin flips end over end, spinning into the glittering droplets, and then all at once disappears. "Chiron at Camp Half-Blood, please."

_What the heck is a Fleecy?_

"Iris' assistant. Or so I'm told." I almost smile at the memory of the story the boys told me. And then my almost-smile fades, because according to Reyna, that happened more than a year ago now.

"What?" Hazel peeks around from behind the hose.

"I was talking to Reyna, sorry."

"You can do that?"

"I guess. She's here, in my head."

_Yo. _Reyna says, dryly.

"Reyna says 'yo'."

In front of me, the rainbow in the hose water begins to shimmer, and then forms itself into the face of a scruffy, slightly-older-than-middle-aged man. The background shakes slightly, as if there is a battle on. Internally, I breathe a sigh of relief. Chiron can fix most anything; the Stoll brothers give him constant practice at it.

"Reyna, hello." He looks a bit miffed that I'm calling him, and I'm confused for just a second before I realize he sees Reyna's body, not mine. More lines crease his face than I remember, and his hair is shot through with streaks of grey. How can an immortal centaur age?

"Hey, Chiron." I scratch the back of my neck. Waste time. "I, uh…you'd better sit down for this."

I tell him everything. Watch as his face shifts from surprise to puzzlement, and, before I show him the Mark, denial. By the time I finish, it seems like he's aged another ten years, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly.

"You can understand what a shock this is." Chiron's face wavers in the spray of the water. "Annabeth, everyone here has believed you dead for almost a year."

"I know that." I say. The bruises have spread to my throat. The clay jar struggles to crack itself open, but I throw my whole weight against it. Not. Now. "I don't understand any more than you do. I don't…I don't know how this happened." But even with what everyone is saying, a small part of me refuses to accept it. Is looking for a loophole, a way out of this. "I do know that Reyna deserves her body back. No matter the cost."

"That's very noble of you." He smiles, but his eyes remain downcast, pitying. The way he tries to encourage campers before they go on quests. I imagine Chiron giving countless hundreds of heroes this look over the century. Watching bad things happen to them while he stands by, unable to help. "Very well. You say that Reyna's mind coexist alongside yours, but she has no control over herself."

"I guess."

"So what does she think?" Chiron frowns. "What…Reyna, what do you think?"

_It feels like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff. Pushed up against the wall. _I repeat Reyna's words as she speaks, though it gives me a massive headache to do it. _And there's this huge wind trying to push me off. It feels like I'm slipping out of my own head. _

I wipe a hand across my face, which is wet from water spray. It reminds me of the ocean.

"Hm." Chiron strokes his beard. "The gods themselves have difficulty operating when they are torn between two personas. Bodies, mortal ones much less, are not built to withstand that kind of pressure."

"I know." I say, more to myself than to him.

"Annabeth, my dear, I realize that you do not wish to talk about your death, but I fear that, with the Mark involved, it appears to be vitally connected to your inhabiting Reyna's body."

"So what do you want to do?" I bite my lower lip, and wish desperately for my bone sword, or even my old dagger. My body is aching to fight something, have a corporal enemy to slay.

"I think that consulting our resident liaison to the Underworld might shed some light on the situation." The image shifts to a tweed jacket as Chiron stands up, brushing himself off. He bends over, his face distorted by the fisheye-like lens of the rainbow. "Nico arrived here a few nights ago. Maybe he knows something about what is happening to you."

Despite myself, a chill works its way down my neck. Nico has always been kind of a scary kid. Even with knowing all the reasons why, he still preferred to keep to himself. I open my mouth to respond, and then feel the knife sitting in my ribs. I blink. To me, it feels like I never left this world. But if to everyone, it's been a year…

A memory surfaces of me speaking in front of a blue funeral shroud. Of the way it felt to have my own personal black hole that had been slowly eating away at my insides.

Oh, gods.

"Is Percy there?" My voice comes out more frail than I want it to. I'm tiny. No, minuscule.

"Yes." Chiron says, slowly. "But…maybe it would be better for him to see you in person. To have it explained to him."

"Maybe." I say this, but it's not what I think. I want to see him. To tell him that everything's going to be okay even if it's not.

For Percy, everything hasn't been okay for a long, long time.

"Just come here as quickly as possible, Annabeth. If what Reyna is describing is accurate, than I do not know how much time we may have. Percy will have to wait." In the background, what sounds like an explosion shakes the Big House, and dust falls from the rafters. Chiron runs a hand through his hair. "Now, I have to go help with making sure the Hermes cabin doesn't burn down the camp." For a split second, his eyes soften. "And Annabeth, dear, if you need time, to process everything-"

"I'll try." I wave my hand through the water, suddenly anxious to end the conversation. When the image fades, Hazel twists the knob on the hose, and the jet of water dissipates into the air of New Rome.

"I'm sorry that I can't do more." She says, walking over to where I stand. The hose has created a small pool of mud around me, but Hazel doesn't care that it covers her sandals. She comes anyway.

"Don't be." I must look like a sad, wet puppy, because Hazel wraps her arms around my middle and buries her head in my chest. She smells like cinnamon. Like comfort.

"And I'm sorry that I'm acting like such an idiot. And that I didn't believe you." She looks up, tears swimming in her eyes. "I just didn't want to get my hopes up." Her fingers tighten in my shirt. "When it happened, I didn't accept it until Athena showed up." She doesn't realize that she is spreading bruises. That I don't want to think about this, but at the same time, I do. "But I guess you can't trick a goddess."

"I don't know what I believe." I return Hazel's hug. Squeeze her harder. "But right now I see a problem that I can fix, and a way to fix it."

"Then let's get it done."

_Not thinking about it will only make it worse. You have to face it._

"Not here, Reyna. Let me help you."

_I'm fine. You heard Chiron. You need to take some time to absorb what's going on. _

"You're not fine. You said it yourself; you're slipping."

"Annabeth?" Hazel is wondering what the heck is going on.

"Reyna," I point at my forehead. "Is being Reyna."

Hazel gives a smile her best shot. "At least she's consistent." I do my best to ignore the pounding Reyna is giving the inside of my skull. "Now, about that problem we can fix."

I chew my lip. "I need to talk to Nico, see if he knows anything about souls being in the wrong bodies."

_And about Death not working the way it should._

"I know a way we can get there, and fast." Hazel's smile turns into a grimace. "But you're not going to like it."

* * *

I tell Hazel that I have to use the bathroom before we head to the stables. She was right that I wouldn't like her idea of asking Arion to give us a lift to New York; I don't hate horses, but I'm not a horse person, either. And I'm definitely not a ride-a-horse-that-runs-faster-than-a-fighter-jet person.

Little flowers are painted around the rim of the mirror. Blue ones. I stare at Reyna's face, still trying to understand that when it blinks, it is me who is blinking. When I splash cold water over my cheeks, I gasp from the chill. Part of me wants to bolt from the bathroom, to run from what I am about to ask. But part of me needs to know. Even though it is one more thing I will cram into the clay jar, the question is a little worm that has been niggling its way into my brain, and I can't think straight. My thoughts just keep veering back down that path. I prop myself up on the sink, locking my elbows in place, staring into Reyna's black eyes.

"Reyna, what was Hazel talking about, earlier?"

My head is quiet for several seconds before Reyna answers. _What do you mean? _

"You know what I mean. When she said that I had done something huge for you. Something that would make this an even sicker joke."

Silence.

"This is what you wanted me to think about, right? You wanted me to absorb that I'm dead. Well, here I am. I can't absorb right now. I just can't, so this is what we have to settle for." I don't break eye contact with the mirror. "Tell me."

_It was after the war. _Reyna's voice falters. _When Gaia had been defeated, and everyone returned to their homes. You…you had three days of peace. _

Three days. Three days that are buried in the folds of my thoughts, that I can't quite make out.

I clench my teeth, force myself not to look away. "And then what."

_Although I had managed to stop the majority of the fighting between our camps, there were a handful of Romans who chose to stay behind and honor their oath to burn Camp Half Blood to the ground. I stayed behind as well, to help fight them off. _

I wait for more. I won't give her the luxury of backing away.

_It might be easier for me just to show you. _

"You can do that?"

_I don't know, really. Maybe if I just remember it, and you look into my thoughts-_

"Fine."

In my head, I reach out towards the sun that is burning in tandem with my own. I feel the heat of Reyna's mind, the swirling colors and emotions. I spread my fingers, strain to touch the surface of her memories. When I do, my blood is turned to lead, and blackness devours my vision. I wonder if I'll fall, and if I do, whether or not my head will hit the rim of the sink.

And then I don't wonder anything at all.

* * *

_Reyna's knees burn like wildfire. She rubs a hand over her legs, trying to wake them up from their sleep of pins and needles. All around her, the forest breathes in the symphony of nighttime. Tree spirits call to one another. The leaves overhead whisper with wind. _

_Hours pass. She knows that the enemy Romans are out here, and she is determined to beat them at their own game. She checks her watch. Five minutes before the Camp Half Blood patrol crosses this way again. If she stays here, she'll have backup when the fighting begins. But if she stays here, there may be no fighting whatsoever._

_She makes a decision. Slowly, without even a hint of a sound, Reyna rises to her feet, her hand clutching her sword. Her heart pounds in her chest, but she puts a hand over it to slow it. Now is not the time to be afraid. Now is the time to avenge the fallen. Her friends who were murdered by other friends. _

_She hears the hiss of the arrow a half second before it reaches her, and drops to her stomach without even a shadow of hesitation. The shaft buries itself in the trunk of the tree she was sitting behind, quivering with energy. _

_Reyna keeps on the ground. The forest does not explode into life. Rather, there is movement to her right, and she can make out a group of five or six Romans running towards her through the thick bushes. They yell battle cries, but their voices sound hollow and lonely in the wide open air. _

Roman voices were never meant to yell alone.

_She waits as long as possible to make sure no more arrows are on their way before springing to her feet, and then the Romans are on her, surrounding her in a circle. Her sword is halfway out of its sheath, aching for battle. _

_One Roman steps towards her, removing his helmet. Reyna keeps herself from lunging forward, from tearing his throat out. _

"_I would say I didn't expect you here." Octavian smirks at her, teddy bears swinging at his belt. "But then, that would be lying."_

_Reyna doesn't say anything. Just holds his gaze until he drops her eyes first. _

"_I'm going to make this quick, Reyna. Either you surrender to us, or we kill you."_

"_Surrender? And be taken where?" Reyna snorts, beckons around to the empty woods. "You're on nobody's side, Octavian."_

_His nostrils flare at the comment, and Reyna revels in a brief moment of victory, even though it will cost her. _

"_Your hand is still on your sword. Take it off before I cut it off."_

"_Go to hell." _

_Reyna is counting on the patrol now. It's her only lifeline. Her thoughts narrow down to the impending fight, her blood beginning to run red with the fury of her mother. She was no stranger to uneven odds, but these were trained Roman soldiers she was dealing with, not inbred monsters. This was a fight even she would be hard pressed to come out of alive. _

_And if the patrol didn't arrive soon, she probably wouldn't. _

"_Fine. You had your choice." Octavian turns away and waves his hand. "I read a death in the fortunes tonight anyway."_

_ Octavian walks a few steps away to watch as his friends descend on her. Reyna's mind processes that there are four of them; three swordsmen, one armed with a spear. Her sword is out of the sheath in less time than it takes for lightning to strike. _

_ She thinks nothing as she fights, not of the next move she is going to make, nor of the improbability of her victory. She only moves, allows herself to speak to her blade, to follow where the battle takes her. In less than ten seconds she's taken out one of the gorilla Romans, smashing the hilt of her sword into the side of his head. The move costs her time, though, and one of the swordsmen manages a shallow cut on her arm. She focuses on the swords, on always moving and never backing herself into a corner. Being swift is the only way she can avoid being gutted by her opponents. _

_ Sparks fly as her blade meets with another, and she is forced to draw her dagger, fight with two hands to knock away the spear. She is fighting a boy and two girls, all of whom are drenched in sweat. Her dagger finds a chink on the boy's armor, buries itself into his side. Not a killing blow, but close. _

_ Not much later, she pins the other girl's hand to a tree with her dagger. Reyna ignores her screams. Grits her teeth. Whirls around to face the girl with the spear, and bites back a cry as the head of the spear slices her across the ribs. With a grunt, she slaps away the shaft and moves in, but then Octavian is on her, punches her in the jaw. Pain explodes through her teeth, one by one, and Reyna struggles to keep her hand on her sword. _

_And then the spear is shoved straight through her calf muscle. This time she does scream. Fights blacking out. Turns and slices the shaft of the spear in two before being punched again by Octavian. _

_Her consciousness turns to fragments. Little movie reels that are stained red with pain. She sinks to her knees. Claws her way back to her feet. Falls. Turns to meet her death in the shape of Octavian's blade. _

At least she will not die with a wound in her back_-_

_A figure appears, standing over her, and knocks away the sword. Parries the broken spear and judo-flips the girl into the dirt. _

"_Annabeth?" Reyna croaks. _

"_You're finished, Octavian." Annabeth, her guardian angel, glances down at Reyna. Blood is trickling down her forehead, plastering her blond hair to her face. _

_Octavian chuckles. "That's a really stupid thing to say. Looks like you're the one who was nearly finished. What happened? Trip on a tree root?"_

"_Not on a root." Annabeth says. "On your friends' broken arms." _

_A little color leaves Octavian's face. Reyna sucks in breath after breath, mentally slapping herself. _Stay awake_. If she falls asleep, she's dead. _

"_Even if you take me prisoner, the other Romans will set me free." Octavian backs away, clutches his teddy bears like they will rise from his belt and fight for him. "And we won't stop until Camp Half Blood has paid its price." _

"_That's cute." Annabeth points her bone sword at the space between Octavian's eyes. "Now drop your weapon." _

Stay awake stay awake stay awake.

"_Fine! I surrender." Octavian's sword lands with the blade buried in the dirt. He stretches his hands out towards Annabeth. "Take me in."_

_Reyna clutches at Annabeth's ankle. She has to warn her that Octavian is a liar. That the girl who is pinned to the tree has taken the dagger out of her hand. She has to, but the only thing that will come out of her mouth is blood. _

_Annabeth shifts her weight. "If you try anything, this sword is going down your throat." Octavian nods, and Annabeth reaches for the length of rope in her jacket pocket. As she ties his hands, she glances down at Reyna. "I'm going to get you out of here. I promise."_

_It takes all of her strength to nod towards the girl who is coming up behind Annabeth, blood pouring down her hand, but Annabeth must think she is nodding in confirmation, because she smiles ever so slightly. _

"_Oh and Annabeth?" Octavian raises his hands, taps Annabeth on the shoulder with his fists. Annabeth turns, her hand already wrapping around her drakon-bone sword. "_I'm_ not the one who's going to try something." _

_It doesn't happen slowly. Reyna remembers how in books, when the characters describe death, they say time speeds down. But this doesn't. Like the hollow, empty charge of the Romans, the knife is thrust into the base of Annabeth's back and pulled back out again, making almost no noise. _

_Annabeth's eye twitches. She grunts in surprise. Reaches around to touch her back. Reyna watches as several emotions run across her face, flickering from one to the next. A broken DVD, jumping first to one scene, skipping to another. In less than a second, Annabeth's pants are soaked through with crimson. _

_Her eyes travel down to meet Reyna's. And then they roll back up in her head. Reyna tries to yell, to make any sort of sound, but she can't. _

_There is shouting, far, far away. Fire flickering with the shadows of people, drawn to it like moths. Feet crashing through the undergrowth. _

_Annabeth falls without sound. Without last words. Her head makes a sickening crack when it lands on a stone, jutting out from the dirt. _

_A barn owl screeches. _

Stay awake stay awake stay awake.

_Reyna watches Annabeth, how still she is._

Stay awake stay awake stay awake.

_The fire and its moths arrive in the clearing. Shouting. Someone drops by Annabeth. Cradles her. _

Stay awake.


	3. Tsunami

_I can't do it._

"Reyna, hold on…please."

_Give it back. Give it back now, Annabeth. I need it._

"You know..know I-"

_GIVE IT BACK!_

I bite my lip until blood seeps between my teeth. Stains the skin around my mouth red, collecting into droplet that are sucked into the countryside rushing past all around me. My head jerks forward and slams into Hazel's shouler. My shoulders slacken, bouncing with Arion's gate, and then sieze up again. Bullets are ripping through my brain. Fling gray matter out through a jagged hole in my skull.

"Hold on, Annabeth, we're almost there."

_I can't do it, I can't I can't I CAN'T!_

Colors flourish in a painful display in front of my eyes. Rainbow flashes of red and yellow and blue whip back and forth. The vessels in my head pound with my heartbeat, faster than Arion's hooves slamming into the dirt. I try to form words to answer Hazel. My mouth is numb. Refusing to respond. A series of strings run from my joints to a ghostly puppeteer in the sky, jerking me around, giving me whiplash. I can't feel my fingers, my toes. Anything.

"Just a little farther..." I'm hearing Hazel's voice through a pool of water. Reyna thrashes in her panic, turning over in the folds of my thoughts. Lashes out. Hits me square between the eyes.

* * *

In my unconsciousness, I walk among many people. I am drifting. My hair curls up an around me in a fan as though I am underwater. When I open my mouth, bubbles escape from my lips and float up, up, up. The hair that enshrouds me is blond; I am in my own body. I am home.

_"You must choose. Here, or there." _A disembodied voice sends ripples through the current. I turn my head, but nobody in the crowd around me notices the booming sound. I try to speak, but water rushes in and fills my lungs. _"Choose."_

* * *

My mouth tastes like copper. The metallic taste makes me wrinkle my nose, and I sneeze.

"Oh, thank gods." A pair of hands are wrapped around my armpits, dragging me. Or trying to, anyway. They pull away and I am dropped against legs that smell like cinnamon. My head lolls and I catch a glimpse of a dark blue sky, peppered with pinpricks of starlight.

"That's beautiful." I grin at the stars, and then wince. There's something akin to a hatchet lodged firmly in my forehead. Or there might as well be, judging by the way I feel.

Hazel collapses beside me, gasping for breath. "No, you're beautiful." She grins and wipes a hand across her forehead. "Thank you for not being dead."

"Yet." My back must think it belongs to a ninety-year old woman, because that's certainly not how a teenager should feel. "What happened?"

"I don't know. You…you had some sort of episode." Hazel's face is creased with worry lines. "You scared me. Bad."

"No kidding." I frown as the fog in my brain begins to clear. "Reyna? You in there?"

_Yes_, is the sheepish reply.

"Are you…okay?"

_I think so. For now._

I wait.

_I don't know what happened. I just kind of..._

"Lost it?"

_Yeah. I'm claustrophobic. Never though that would be a problem in my own head._

"This isn't exactly something you can prepare for." I press my fingers into the corners of my eyes. "Hazel, do you know where we are?"

Hazel grabs onto a low hanging branch to haul herself to her feet, and I notice that our resting spot is in the middle of a forest. "Camp Half Blood. Ish."

"'ish'?"

"I mean, we crossed the fleece border, but then you fell off Arion." "That would explain the back mutiny." I don't remember falling, but I also doubt that I would want to. Instead, I accept her outstretched hand and groan as my body tells me off for it. Every muscle feels like it's been stampeded by a herd of horses, which I guess isn't too far from the truth.

"I was trying to get you to the Big House, but I was just guessing for the direction. I don't know this place that well."

"Thank you, I think." I reach behind my head and find that my hair is smeared with mud and leaves and twigs. "Somebody should have noticed us crossing border, at least. But we shouldn't stay in one spot. The woods are stocked."

"Stocked?"

"With monsters. For training."

Hazel says something under her breath that sounds a lot like "crazy Greeks."

"Arion's gone. If you can walk, than I still think the Big House is the best idea."

I nod in agreement, and together we set off through the trees. Neither of us has a light, so we go slowly to let our eyes adjust to night. Crickets and birds create a canopy of chirping, squawking, calling, which at least is some comfort. I know from experience that a quiet forest is a dangerous one, even in a familiar woods like this.

Reyna is silent as we hike, and I pick up from nudging her mind that she's punishing herself for her freak out. Though being back in Camp Half Blood feels like sleeping with an old blanket, the memory raises the hair on my arms. Everything had been fine one minute, and the next, I had felt a wave of panic engulf her, like a tsunami rising out of the blue. The stress of being cooped up, not being able to move her own muscles, had been building for hours. It had no choice but to overcome her.

I remember the little clay jar sitting inside my chest, and poke the lid, just to make sure it is still sealed tight. My pulse rises, just a hair, at the touch.

Don't think about it. Just don't think about it.

Instead, I think about my dream, in the not-ocean, and the booming voice. What scares me the most about it is that somehow, I know that it wasn't sent by any god. It was conjured up by my own brain. Drawn from memories.

Summer leaves rustle overhead, filled with racing wind spirits. I step in a hole and almost twist my ankle. I look down and find that it's not a hole, but a bronze helmet with a red plume.

"Hazel, what's today?"

"Um, Friday, I'm pretty sure."

I open my mouth to reply, but at that moment, the canopy of sounds falls silent. I freeze. Reach down at my hip for a weapon to draw, but only find the pockets of the baggy sweatpants Hazel has lent me.

My head cocks at the sound of something moving, off to my right. Hazel hasn't noticed that I've stopped, but is climbing over a fallen tree, using one hand to tamp her unruly hair down so it isn't snagged by sticks.

"Hazel…" I say, edging towards her. The noise is drawing closer, sounds like something with two legs. Despite my hypothesis, a chill runs down my neck. There are only a couple two-legged monsters I know of, the Minotaur chief among them. And the Minotaur is not something I want to run into unarmed.

I'm just about to make a dash for the fallen tree when the creature bursts out of the bush, yelling at the top of its lungs, and barrels straight into me. My feet actually are lifted off the ground and I fly several feet, my already sore back taking yet another fall onto the hard dirt. The monster is sent reeling by the impact, and smacks its head on a tree trunk. I scramble to my feet and jump on top of it, straddling it with both legs, raising my elbow to strike it in the head to knock it out until Hazel can kill it with her cavalry sword. I'm sucking in a quick breath of air for the strike when I notice a steady stream of cursing in a low voice. I frown. Monsters don't toss around the f-bomb when they're about to die.

"Annabeth!" The tip of a glowing gold sword appears in my peripheral vision, pointed at the body I'm sitting on.

"Wait! Wait." I swallow, and lean back ever so slightly to get a better look. That's definitely a metal breastplate, not chiseled abs. And Minotaurs don't wear Levis, either.

The pent up breath hisses out of my lungs.

"False alarm, Haze."

The sword tip lowers. "Oh, jeez. Yeah."

"Unng." The guy raises a hand to his forehead, groaning. I stand up off the camper's chest, and brush myself off.

"I didn't know you were a ninja, Annabeth." Hazel is watching the camper, who has curled into a fetal position, hugging his head and obscuring his face, swearing under his breath. "I mean, of course I suspected, but…wow."

"Maybe we should make sure I didn't kill him." I kneel down and lay a hand on the guy's shoulder. "Hey, uh…are you alright?"

"…hurts like a motherfu-" The camper notices that I'm talking to him, and he uncurls ever so slightly.

And then he looks up at me.

Even though it's completely dark outside, I can still catch a glimpse of brilliant sea green and dark brown, almost black.

"Reyna?" He says, surprised.

It takes me a second to process.

I say "Hey, Percy."

* * *

It takes us another half hour to navigate our way back to the Big House. Hazel convinced Percy that we should get me some ambrosia and nectar before he began asking questions, and luckily, he agreed. I was right in that there is Capture the Flag tonight, which would explain the helmet and Percy sprinting through the woods in the middle of the night. We don't see any other campers on our way back. Percy says he was skirting around the border of the playing field when he ran into us.

I'm sure he can feel the holes I am boring into the back of his head with my eyes. Drinking him up like my first glass of water in a desert. I don't know how long it feels like I've been gone. Sometimes only a day or two, other times, a month. But for Percy, it's been an entire year since…since the accident.

I clench my teeth. After Reyna had shown me her memory, I had thrown up in Hazel's tidy bathroom. Gagged over the toilet seat. But still I refused to let that lightning strike my heart. And now, being so close to him, I can feel that same tsunami that knocked Reyna over swelling in my chest. The water is lapping at the docks, faster and faster. Rising. I want nothing more than to crumble into his arms and sob. To give myself completely away, just for a minute.

Get to the Big House, I tell myself. Chiron needs to know I'm alright.

_Are you?_ I'm almost surprised to hear Reyna's voice in my head again. But this time, she sounds…faint. Distant, like she's standing on a train and I'm at the station, watching her roll away.

"I don't know. Maybe." I say, careful to talk under my breath so Percy doesn't hear me. I give Hazel a look and she nods, allowing me to fall behind her. "But what about you? You sound-"

_Far away. I know._ Reyna sighs. _But I'm hanging on._

"I'm trying. I am."

_I know._

Reyna doesn't have anything else to say, so she retreats back into her own little corner, and I try to avert my eyes from her mind. I've discovered that it takes a Herculean effort to provide even the smallest semblance of privacy in this head. If I think about Reyna for even a moment, I am assaulted by sights and sounds and smells, touches from her memory and personality. I can see the bright flashes of her synapses firing, see them struggle as they work overtime to support two minds at once.

"We're almost there." Percy has gone a little ways ahead, and he calls back to us. "I'll let Chiron know you're coming."

Hazel says something in thanks and I nod, too.

He asks us if we want to call a meeting of the cabin leaders. If there's an emergency.

"No," I say, even as Hazel begins to talk. "I just need Chiron and Nico. And you."

I glance at him as I say this, and he holds my gaze for just a beat too long. His eyebrows furrow in a fraction of an inch.

I'm right here, I want to scream. Come find me.

But I hold it in. I stuff the voice in the clay jar.

"Right. I'll go wake them up."

Percy takes off jogging towards the ring of cabins, and together Hazel and I descend down the hill, towards the large farm house with yellow windows that burn in the night.

* * *

A/N: I don't say this enough so I'm saying it now: thank you! Thank you for reading, thank you for following and for leaving reviews. I may not be very present, but know that I love hearing from people. I'm going to try and stick to about an update per week, but we'll see how that goes, what with life getting busier and busier as the summer goes on. That being said, writing this is a lot of fun, so you better strap yourselves in, because things are about to GO DOWN.

P.S. Also I'm changing the rating to T for now, just because I read over those specifications again and that ch. 2 fight scene was kinda iffy for K+. Also naked Gwen? I dunno, lemme know what you think.


	4. Rubble

I feel them when I am half-asleep.

I do not flinch when their legs touch my skin, probing, searching for a way up. There is noise like a hundred million grains of rice pouring in through my window, but I know better than to believe that. I keep my eyes shut. Stay where I am in my bed, my hands curled up at my chest, my knees bent into a fetal position. They can hear the change in my breathing, hear my heart stuttering.

A whimper rises in my chest, but I bite it back. They are crawling up my spine now, using it like an old and worn dirt path. I don't have to look to know that my ceiling has been transformed into an alien sky of silver webs and black stars.

The first leg touches my face. Tears are building against my eyelids, but I keep them shut, squeeze them so hard I see real stars, bursts of electricity, my brain screaming at me to make it stop.

The little ones are the worst. They are in my ears, my nose, my armpits. They are under my sheets and exploring the waistband of my sweatpants.

This is not a godly dream, I know that. This isn't a story my brain is telling itself in the middle of the night.

I have many memories of the spiders.

I am silent in all of them.

* * *

"Everyone's in the Big House." Percy jogs around the corner of the Hecate cabin and into the pool of light that its glowing stones cast. His chest armor is gone, replaced by a blue hoodie, which clashes with his jeans. I can't decide if he doesn't realize, or just doesn't care, but have to swallow a smile anyway. It takes an enormous effort not to reach out and correct his uneven hoodie strings, or brush the overlong hair out of his eyes.

And then I notice that there are gigantic purple bags under his eyes, too. His skin seems paler than I remember, creased through with lines and shadows. His back is slouched, ever so slightly. He's still clutching a ballpoint pen in his fist, fingers white.

"Great." Hazel says. She shoots me a look. "I'm going to see if they have any leftovers."

"Do you need me to show you-"

"Nope!" Hazel cranks up the intensity of her grin. "I'm good."

I watch her speed walk away, her brown hair bouncing with her gait.

Reyna says, _She has no idea where the Big House is._

"Is she okay?" Percy rubs a hand across his face. I wonder why does he look like death?

Oh.

"I think so. We haven't eaten since New Rome." I don't look at him as I say this. "Long day."

"Yeah." I don't know how to describe him. This isn't Percy. It's someone's cruel imitation. A wax-Percy. And it's my fault.

He's looking at me again. With his eyebrows scrunched up.

"Percy, can we talk?"

"Sure?"

"I…"

_Do you want me to stay or go?_ Reyna asks.

"Stay," I mutter.

"What?"

I look up at him. Reyna is taller than I am, so I'm not used to seeing him from this height. I'm still getting used to walking in her legs, too, so I stand unevenly, wobbly. Like I could be knocked down at any moment.

"I wasn't talking to you, sorry."

"Who…were you talking to?"

I take breath. Point at my forehead. Do I really want to do this?

"Reyna. In here."

* * *

"You're not Reyna, I believe that." Percy says this as he dangled his legs in the water, his jeans rolled up to his knees. We're sitting on the edge of the dock, our heads bent slightly to avoid the patrolling Harpies skirting up and down the beach. Up the hill, at the pavilion, the Athena cabin is waving around a silver flag, celebrating their victory. My hear tugs at the sight. I should be up there, dancing and laughing with them.

Except I shouldn't. I shouldn't even be down here.

"You don't act like her." The water comes up to meet his skin, curling around his calf. It is happy to touch him. "You don't have her mannerisms, or talk the way she does. But if you're not her, than what are you?" His eyes widen. His fingers tighten around his pen. "You're not one of the Eidolons, are you?"

"No, I'm not." I'm talking to the splintery wood planks, because I can't bring myself to look at him.

A minnow is caught up in one of Percy's streams of water. "Then who?"

_ You don't have to tell him._ Reyna looks at my little clay jar. _We can get through this without it._

I follow her line of sight. All the little balled up emotions in there, swirling around, fighting to get out. She's right. Whatever quest I have to embark on to save Reyna, I could go around pretending to be her or some spirit, and Hazel and Chiron would be the only ones to ever know. I could spare Percy the hurt. I could spare everyone the hurt.

And then, of all things, I think about the hell of Tartarus. How we dragged each other through that place and survived. We have both turned down immortal lives, and we wouldn't be kidding anyone if we said it wasn't for each other. We had chosen to go through it. We had chosen to put our faith not in the gods, but in each other.

I kiss my teeth. What faith does Percy have left? Who does he have to lean on?

In the water, my foot bumps against his.

"You passed out when you ran into that tree."

_ You're the bravest person I know_, Reyna says.

"You drool when you sleep."

The ocean water hovering in the air freezes. Not standing still, not paralyzed. Literally, a vein of ice shoots up the middle and branches out, perfect geometric crystals blooming and melding together to form one solid chunk of ice that traps Percy's leg in the middle.

I stare.

I've seen a lot of war dramas, with my father being obsessed with old battles. I've seen documentaries, the look on vets' faces when they describe their battles. I know the husky, forced voice they use when talking about jungles or freezing tundra on the other side of the world. And this is all I can think of when Percy speaks.

"What?"

I begin to answer, but he stops me.

"No." He puts up his hand, and then runs it through his hair. He is silent for a long, long time. The ocean laps at our legs. Cicadas call to each other in the forest. Several times, he opens his mouth like he is about to say something, but then closes it. His head sinks to rest in his palm, and I can hear a long, slow breath trickle out through his fingers.

Time passes.

The cicadas call.

His hoodie has slipped up to show his lower back, and even now, even in the dark, I can see the powerful muscles that are wrapped around his body.

I do not know what to think, so I don't think at all.

* * *

He picks his head up, and for the first time, looks at me.

Really looks at me.

Tears are shining in his eyes like so many stars, all these stars that have been dead for ten thousand years. Stars that we worship, whose light is just reaching us now. After being gone for so, so long, we still take the time to count them as they spin.

Red blooms across his cheeks. Flowers of blood that swirl under his skin. An image forms in my head, of a tiny, wet Labrador puppy.

He moves without a sound. Topples. An old monument that has stood for generations, brought down. His forehead touches my shoulder, and then slides into the base of my neck. His entire body fits into mine, differently, but the same. His hoodie is massive. I bury my face in the cloth. Against the base of his skull, where his hair ends. I don't know whose arms are whose. We collapse on each other. Two buildings giving in to gravity, breaking into pieces in slow motion. Sending dust billowing into the air.

We don't talk, because we are rubble.

* * *

I do not know how long we stay like this, entwined in each other.

I do not know how long I breathe him in, his smell, his being there.

From where my chin rests on his shoulders, I watch the meteor shower. I try to count them as they fall, but I give up after a while.

We fall asleep like this. Drift in and out of it. I wake up over and over, sometimes alone, sometimes with him. We shift around; interlock our puzzle pieces even closer. Reyna has put up a wall as best she can around herself. Given me these hours.

Sometimes, when I open my eyes, the meteors are still falling. Sometimes the sky is still, holding its breath. It's cold outside, so cold, but Percy's breath against my chest warms me, gives the furnace in my ribs strength. Stokes the embers.

There are muttered conversations that last for an infinite amount of time. I tell him I am dead. He tells me I'm anything but.

We curl closer. We sleep.

I tell myself I am dead. I tell myself I believe it.

I pour the contents of the jar into the furnace. The fear makes the flames jump higher.

I tumble back into the dreamless black, warm.

The collars of our shirts are wet, soaked from tears and laughing and sweat. I am smiling. He is smiling.

I pray for a never-ending night. That the earth will stop spinning, and that the dawn will not come. But of course it does. The sun rises. Instead of black, we are bathed in light.

* * *

There was a party in the Big House.

There's no hiding it. The floor is covered with cheese puffs, mashed into the carpet. Bottles of sparkling grape juice lay discarded in the fire pit, along with half-melted Ping-Pong balls. Hazel is passed out on the Ping-Pong table, Nico underneath it. Chiron is draped over an armchair, with Jason facedown in its twin. I wonder for a moment if he can breath in that position. Not surprisingly, Mr. D is there as well, snoring in symphony on the couch. Leo and Piper are both on the floor, sharing a blanket.

"Do you think we should get them up?" I look sideways as Percy, ignoring the little electric tingle that rushes up my spine from that stupid grin on his face. He hasn't stopped smiling since we peeled ourselves off the dock and made our way up to the Big House. I wanted so badly to grab his hand, but decided I had already commandeered Reyna's body and reputation enough for one night. Reyna holding hands with Percy in public probably would not go over well with the other campers, or Gwen. Even now, my fingers jump towards his, but I hold them back. Reyna was up all night, concentrating on giving us privacy. Suffice to say, she is not a happy camper.

"I'm already on it." Percy motions for me to stand back, and then slowly brings his arm up and around his head. A stream of water pulls itself from the sink on the far side of the room, and Percy squints, manipulating it until there is an orb of water about the size of a volleyball floating over every sleeping person's head.

"You're evil," I say. "You sure about Mr. D?"

Percy grins. "YOLO."

Before I can smack him for what he just said, he lets his arm drop, and the orbs along it with it. I giggle in spite of myself. There is a certain beauty in watching seven sleeping people simultaneously have buckets of water dumped on their heads, even if it does mean our certain death afterword.

We both hit the deck as Leo flails, sending jets of fire in every direction. Jason is yelling over the mini tornado he has created, and Nico jumps to his feet, immediately smacking his head on the underside of the table. Hazel and Mr. D look about ready to kill somebody. Chiron screams "Stoll!" before whipping his head around and seeing both of us, lying in the doorway.

"You." Mr. D splutters, dragging a hand across his face. "You, Phillip Johnson, are going to die."

"Not if I get to him first." Leo picks himself up out of the blanket, away from Piper, who looks like she's holding in a bought of laughter.

"I'm sorry, was I interrupting?" Percy grins even wider, and offers me a hand off the floor. Everybody stops what they are doing. Looks at him as he smiles, like it's some strange anomaly.

I deflate just a little when I realize that it probably is.

"What time is it?" Jason groans, and then sits back in his pile of cheese puffs.

Chiron checks his watch. "Far too early. Which I cannot believe I am saying."

"Hazel, I asked you just to get Nico." I frown, surveying the war zone. These guys really must have gone nuts.

Hazel flashes a guilty smile. "I know, but then Leo saw me on my way in, and told Jason and Pipes I was back, so…" She trails off, her eyes flicking between Percy and I. "They, uh, Chiron and I told them. We decided not to bother you two."

"I want to kiss you." Piper's voice is awash with charm speak before she catches herself, turning it down. "I mean, not you, Reyna, but-"

"How does that work?" Leo waves a hand in front of my face. "Like, does Reyna get the right hand and you get the left? Can you only hear out of one ear?"

I smile. I let their words of disbelief and awe and joy wash over me, filling me up. My head is beneath the surface, but this time I part my lips and let the water rush between my teeth. There is pressure in the back of my throat. I will not choke.

For the first time, I allow myself to be happy.

* * *

I dream. And this time, it is not a memory. I do not have a body, but rather I am the camera lens of a movie, flying in a graceful, arcing pan over the fields of Camp Half Blood. After a while, the shot descends and rushes over the surface of the ocean. And then, without warning, plunges beneath the sunlight and the trees and the waves.

It is darker down here, darker than I remember the ocean being. Bubbles whiz past the camera as it descends. Deeper, so deep that if I were really here, my eardrums would be oozing out the sides of my head.

In the distance, I see the massive drop-off to the abyssal plain. The shot widens out, showing the sheer size and scope and emptiness of the sea. It circles around so it is facing the cliff, and then zooms towards a small cave opening. A pinprick on a mountainside.

There is a bubble of air that separates the mouth of the cave from the rest of the ocean, but I pass through with ease. The cave is tiny, barely bigger than an apartment bedroom, and rounded at all corners. There is no flat surface, no comfortable or dry spot to sit in. This much I can see from the only light, which a glowing golden rope, attached to what looks like the shadowy outline of a body.

The camera focuses in on the figure, slumped against the back wall of the cave, shackled by the rope. As if it can detect my presence, the body moves, and lifts its head up. The shot draws it out. Makes it agonizing.

"I see you, Annabeth Chase." Octavian coughs, a dry, hacking sound that resonates in the tiny area of the cave. He stares at a point that would be slightly over my right shoulder. Out into the abyss. "I know you're here. And I have a message for you."

The camera is circling the room now. Drawing closer to him. It travels up the length of the rope, so close I can make out the individual fibers and their own particles of light.

"Tell your boyfriend that I'm ready to answer his questions. Tell him that I am ready to swear upon the River Styx." He coughs again, and this time, cannot seem to stop. His body is wracked by shivers, covered only in a pile of rags that used to be a robe.

The bubble of air trembles at the mouth of the cave.

"He has heard it before, but tell him I did not kill you."

I am a millimeter away from his dull eyes, his cracked lips.

"I swear upon the River Styx, Annabeth Chase, that I did not slip that knife into your back." His eyes lock with mine, no longer looking over my shoulder.

He sees me. I am here.

"Reyna did."


	5. Plain Old Dead

A/N: Yo! I'll just apologize upfront about the 2 week gap between updates. School and sports began these past few weeks and just sort of...devoured my life. Anyway, just so you know, I had originally planned this series as having 5 parts, and so far, according to my plan, I'm about halfway through. But letting a story grow on its own is half the fun of writing! It's looking like The Middle Days will continue updating for some time, so let me know what you think, and enjoy!

* * *

I feel the real world bleed back into being around me, melting away the dreamscape of the cave and golden rope. My mouth is dry, stale. I lay still for a momoment, staring at the ceiling of the Big House, and clutch the blanket tighter to my chest. Curl inward into the corner of the couch.

I am almost afraid to reach out for her, but then I tell myself I am being idiotic.

"Reyna?"

Nothing.

I frown. "Reyna, did you…see that?"

Still nothing. My words are echoing in an empty cavern. There is nothing in my head.

* * *

The tall, yellow grass cuts across my calves like miniature knife blades, but I ignore them, concentrate only on the pounding of my bare feet against dirt. My arms pump like pistons, my breath whooshing in out the bellows of my lungs. Groups of other campers flash past in blurs of orange, and my overlong hair whips across my cheek. My muscles burn. My panic fuels them.

_Reyna did._

I slam into the door of the Poseidon cabin like a professional linebacker. Yesterday, we had all agreed it would be best for Percy to act like nothing out of the normal has happened so as to keep my cover, which meant sleeping in his own cabin and leaving me in the Big House. Falling asleep on the couch had been hard knowing he had only been a quarter mile away, when I could practically see the blue-green light pulsing off his cabin.

And then there had been the lingering smell of dead things. Not rotting, but dry, desiccated, long since picked over. Nico and Piper Hazel and I had spent several hours talking about what could be happening to me, and on a course of action to take the next day. A shudder raises goosebumps on my skin at the memory of the plan we had created. A stupid, idiotic plan that had almost no chance of succeeding.

So I had fallen asleep.

And I had dreamed.

_Reyna did._

"Percy!" I sprint over to his bed, where he's pushed off all the covers and is laying spread-eagle in a pair of blue boxers. Some part of me, the part that is not losing its mind, notices the smooth, undersea lights dancing on the walls, and decides to find out how they are made. Maybe they would be a nice addition to the Olympic-swimming-pool-sized aquarium on Olympus.

His eyes creak open, and although he tries to hide it, I see the flicker of unfamiliarity in his eyes, the movement of his hands to cover himself.

I tell myself I am being stupid for letting it hurt.

"Annabeth? What are you doing? I mean, not that it's not nice to see you-"

"Reyna's not here." I bite back, resisting telling him the rest.

He stares at me for a half-second before understanding dawns on his face.

"Um." I offer him a hand and pull him up. Try to not stare at his extremely-well defined abs. Or his collarbone. Or the V-lines leading into his shorts. "That's not good."

"Really? I thought she was on vacation." Okay, I allow myself a two-second glance, and then I'm done. I scoop up a t-shirt from the floor and toss it at him. "Here."

He struggles to put his head through an armhole and I end up having to come over and hold the shirt the right way for him. His face pokes through the collar and he grins. "Thanks."

I want so badly to wipe that smile off his face with a kiss, a hug, anything. But I remember the underwater prison. How I am a parasite in this body, and I'm killing its host.

That she may already be dead.

"We need to find Nico and Hazel and Piper." I say, my voice suddenly hollow. "Reyna can't afford to wait until tomorrow."

Percy swallows his grin and nods. "Let's go."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, after a cross country scavengar hunt for the three, we gather in the Big House. Bright pink morning sun sets the room on fire in a blaze of light, and I can hear the calls of campers playing a game of Ultimate Frisbee on the lawn. Birds are calling, Festus is slumbering away on a hill. Piper is standing by the door, staring at an invisible something.

Nico twists his skull ring.

"Are you sure about this? Because I'm telling you now, I'm not entirerly sure how to do this. Or if it's even possible."

I set my jaw as I lower myself onto the pingpong table, which is the cleanest surface in the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hazel slip in through the door, and, after a word of greeting to Piper, join her brother.

I let myself wonder, just for a moment, if there is a chance Octavion was telling the truth.

I weigh my answer against her.

_Reyna did._

I hold his gaze. "Reyna could be gone. I'm sure."

Nico looks like he's about to argue, but then Hazel reaches out, and her hand touches his for the briefest of moments. He seems to draw some kind of reassurance from it, because his eyes harden and he gives the tiniest of nods. At my side, Percy's fingers tense up in mine.

"Okay." He draws in a breath, all the way down to the bottom of his lungs, and with it, the shadows int the corners of the room rise like stoked flames. Suddenly, the sunshine seems distant and cold, like I'm feeling it through a filter of empty space. "Does everyone understand what they're supposed to do?"

Piper and Hazel each nod, and Piper detaches from the wall to come and hold my other hand. Percy's are big and calloused and rough, but hers are soft and small, radiating warmth. Both give me the same feeling of being anchored.

"Nico," Percy says, but then whatever words were going to come next die on his lips, and he dips his head. "Just…be careful, ok?"

I answer for him. "We will."

"I don't know how long this will take." Nico grimaces, which must be his attempt at a smile. "So I guess we'll see you on the flip side."

Piper grips my hand harder. I tilt my chin up to look at her, and for just a heartbeat, the feathers dangling in her hair remind me of a mobile, drawing me towards dreams. Piper leans in so close I can smell her deododarent, the flavor of toothpaste she used this morning.

"Annabeth." She looks at me. "Go back to where you belong."

The power of the words slams into me like a freight train.

* * *

"I can't find her. I don't feel anything."

I am lost. Directionless.

But I know this place, too. The same waterless ocean I was in before I found myself in the wrong place, the wrong body. But this time there is no pressure, no urgency that is tearing my soul from its sleep.

I simply exist.

And time passes.

* * *

"I'm trying. She's faint, though."

"Try harder! Please, Nico."

The not-water has begun to take shape. Of a wide river, of jagged black cliffs. I see this happen from a hundred miles up, where columns of stone grow down from some sort of roof.

"She's…not like any of the others. She's not where she's supposed to be."

These voices. Where are they coming from? I blink. I know these, too. Something in my head tells me, "friends".

"Wait."

Wait. I do know this place.

"She's over here!"

"Make a tunnel for her!"

"Annabeth, listen to my voice. Follow it."

I recognize this obsidian. That river, that glowing pit of red evil.

I am in the Underworld. But even here, I am lost.

"Annabeth, you have to listen to me."

I turn my head. I struggle to remember who's voice this is. It has power, it makes my heart beat again. Following it is all I want to do.

And then, without warning, the black obsidian nearest me explodes in a cascade of rock that passes right through my body, falls an infinite amount of space to land in the river below. A glowing light pours out of the tunnel, and I cover my eyes with my forearms. Too bright. There are three sillohoutets standing in the light, two of them solid, one made of vapour and dust.

"It's okay. It's okay, Annabeth. I have you."

The smell of cinnamon wraps itself around me like a blanket. Arms reel me in through the zero gravity, into the illumination of the tunnel. I touch down on the floor, curl into the fetal position. The cinnamon smelling person kneels down beside me, puts a hand on my shoulder.

"You're okay now. We found you."

"I'm not okay." I bite my lips, hug my jacket to my chest. It is a hundred degrees below zero. It is ice.

"Annabeth. Can you open your eyes?"

That voice. It sounds like springtime. Like sunsets and the Northern Lights. I obey. Open my eyes.

"Do you know who we are?"

I open my mouth. Struggle. Friends. I know these are friends.

"It's okay if you don't. It's not important." The ghostly girl kneels down besides the real one, the one with the brown hair that tumbles in every direction, sprigs of chocolate chips. There is a boy, too, his skin paler than the Underworld. Like he is dead, but not. He comes towards me too.

"You don't belong here."

"Nico-"

"Ssh." The boy who must be Nico puts a finger up to the wild haired girl, with coffee skin and golden eyes. He doesn't drop my gaze. "We're here to help. Your soul is displaced. You returned here, but you're not allowed back."

"I don't understand." I am trembling. I cannot help it.

"Neither do I." Creases travel through the skin of Nico's forehead as he frowns. "My father's magic won't let you back into Elysium, where you should be. But your soul has taken form, which means it's been in the Underworld before. It recognizes you."

"Oh."

"Piper." Nico turns to the ghost girl, who's form shimmers and sifts, white sand one minute, faded beads the next. They have some sort of silent conversation, at the end of which Piper comes and kneels next to the other girl.

"After you died, did you go to Elysium?" Again, the force behind the words. I do not know the answer, but my lips move nonetheless.

"Yes."

"Tell me what happened after."

My mouth flies open again, but the words are lost in my throat. Nico squints.

I am so, so cold. I do not remember what warmth is like.

Piper holds my face in one hand, which feels like being held by the wind.

"Don't be afraid. Just tell me."

Something squrims in my chest. An insidious worm of doubt and hopelessness that feels as though it has made a home there. Something in the back of my head says that this is important, but I do not know why.

Her words sink like swords into the worm, and it squeals, thrashes about. I feel physically ill. I bend over, gasp for breath, feel the blood rushing to my face.

"I chose rebirth. I chose rebirth and I came back, but I didn't come back right." Tears prick my eyes. I stare up at those kind eyes, all these kind faces. "Something went wrong, and I got lost…" I trail off. That isn't the right word for it. "…or more like pushed through. Shoved into something smaller than myself. I don't understand."

The Nico kid sucks in a sharp breath. Takes step back.

"Oh. Oh."

"What is it?"

Nico is muttering something to himself. I desperatly want to hear what it is. We make eye contact. Why won't he tell me?

I look up at Piper. "What's going on?"

She smiles sadly at me, but addresses Nico. "Do you think you have something?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Then we need to get her out of here." Hazel stands up, her knees crackling like old photographs. For some reason, she reminds me of old things, dusty things, black and white and real wooden objects. "Piper, can you do it?"

"We have to time it just right." Piper says. "I have to tell her soul to go back at the same time you take us, Nico."

"I know that." Nico zips up his bomber jacket. "Let's do it."

Tundra. That's what this place is. Arctic tundra, and these people are the howling winds, speaking words I do not understand.

Piper puts a hand to my face.

"It's time to go."

Then the feeling of rocketing skyward. The shadows eat my three friends, the howling winds, and I rise.

* * *

I wake up with my face pressed against something that smells like sea salt and Old Spice, something that is so warm it burns away the chill of the Underworld. There is a bass drum heartbeat pounding against my ear. A driving rythm that refuses to back down.

"Hey." I mumble into Percy's chest. Instinctively slip my hand to cover the small of his back. Protect him.

Percy yells in surprise and jerks like he's been shot. He almost lets my head fall and hit the couch, but catches me at the last moment, holds me at a distance to look at me. His face is red and covered with flowers of splothy blood, his eyes puffy and shining.

"You're back." He pulls me in and squeezes. I squeeze back, too, hesitantly, and look over his shoulder to find Piper, Hazel, and Nico all huddled around the couch. "You're back."

"I…" I frown. I feel like I've been gone for a few hours, but not enough for Percy to be acting this way.

Piper is far past the verge of tears. She sniffs up a nosefull of snot and gives me a wobbly smile. "Nico sent us back almost four hours ago. You've been comatose since then. I thought…I was worried I didn't…"

I strain against Percy to grasp her hand. "You sent me back. You did it, Pipes."

"But you almost…I almost left-"

"You only had your soul, not your body." I wiggle against Percy to make myself more comfortable, as he doesn't seem to intend giving me up anytime soon. "I knew the risks, I knew it might not work. But you made it work. Thank you."

"And we got what we came for, too. Which is rare for a visit to the Underworld." Nico stands and stretches his hands towards the ceiling. I notice for the first time how much better he looks since my last memory of him. He's still pale, but by now I just assume it's part of his natural skin color. The bags under his eyes have disappeared, his hair is clean kept. There's even the first tiny black hairs poking out of his chin, so little I doubt he's noticed them yet. Something catches in my throat. Suddenly, I can feel the year standing between me and everyone else, looming over us like an immovable sentinal.

"What do you mean?" I shake my head a little. Shake it off. My memories of the trip are hazy. Besides from the sensation of loneliness and chill, I can't recall much.

"Piper got us to tell you how you died."

I feel Percy tense up. He shifts me around so I can sit on the couch beside him. It takes all my willpower not to squeeze against his chest, because this body does not belong to me. Any touch Percy gives me does not belong to me.

"How?" Percy says. "Why could you do it down there and not here?"

Piper sinks into the couch beside Percy. Runs a hand through her hair as Nico talks. "I don't know, I only had a pretty crappy theory. Obviously Annabeth's soul doesn't belong in Reyna's body. So when Piper told her to go back to where she belonged, I had hoped it would shed some light on what exactly the…problem is. And I was right.

We went to Elysium first, because that's most likely where Annabeth's soul would have gone after she…"

"Died." I say. "After I died. We all know what happened, Nico."

He nods. "After she died. I was able to get Hazel and my own body down there because of our special Underworld Kid status, but I could only sneak Piper's soul through."

A memory flashes by of Water Vapour Piper, made of starlight and dandelion seeds.

"Hazel tunneled us through to Elysium, but she wasn't there. So we looked everywhere. Eventually we found her caught in near the roof of the Underworld, above the River Styx, in a kind of limbo. She was being pulled in two different directions. One towards Elysium, the other towards life."

"And I told you I chose rebirth." I whisper. My mouth is dry, tastes like dead things. I can remember the Underworld now, that horrible state of floating up, up towards sunlight and green trees, and then stopping, snagging, being pulled everywhere at once. The memory itself makes me want to vomit.

"You chose rebirth?" Percy turns to look at me. I can't tell if the light in his eyes is admiration or dissapointment. "But we agreed on-"

"I know." I look down at my hands. Before now, I had no recolation of my time after death. And I still don't, save for a few glimpses of the sunny lawns of Elysium, and the decision hanging over my head. "I know we agreed to wait for each other." I close my eyes. Thinking about it gives me a headache, both in my head and in a deep cavity in my chest. I press my thumbs into the sides of my nose. Why are tears gathering? Why do I feel like I'm falling? "Can we…can we talk about this later?"

"Rebirth would explain why your soul has returned to life." Nico says, awkwardly trying to talk over our little episode. "But not why you were placed in Reyna's body. For now, my best guess is that since your soul returned to a limbo, the process went…wrong. Your soul was trapped between life and death, and you managed to force your way into life anyway."

"And I ended up here." I massage the lines in my hand. "And now Reyna is paying the price."

"There has to be a way to fix this." Hazel is standing, staring out the window towards the hills in the distance. "There has to be something we can do to make this right." She turns away from the fading sun, which splashes around her face like a halo of molten gold. She meets each of our eyes, one pair at a time. "A quest."

Piper inhales. "Hazel, that's perfect! Quests can…can…fix things! That's what they're for, right?" She looks at Percy. "Right?"

"I…" Percy holds up his hands. He's moved a fraction of an inch farther away from me on the cushion. I catch another wiff of seawater, and remember the prison in the bottom of the sea, a prison only one person could make. "I guess so. It'd be worth a shot. I mean, we don't have any other ideas."

"Then we should go and ask for one. Rachel wouldn't say no." Hazel grins, and she and Piper begin trading bursts of excited ideas back and forth like cannonballs shot from circling ships. I put on a smile. Going on a quest to fix this is a good idea. A great one, even.

But I know what "fixing this" means. I know what happens if somehow we succeed.

I was killed. I chose rebirth. If everything works out the way its supposed to, I don't get my body back. I don't get to be Annabeth Chase, hero, warrior, fiancee.

I won't get to be anything, because I'll be sent back to my rightful place.

Which is just plain old dead.


End file.
